


Stay With Me (Supernatural One-shot ~ Destiel Angst)

by JustYourAveragePerson



Series: One shots [varied] [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Illness, M/M, So much angst, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:53:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustYourAveragePerson/pseuds/JustYourAveragePerson
Summary: AU where the events of SPN never happened. All is normal (people, etc).Original plot found here, at the bottom of the page http://plotsforall.tumblr.com/tagged/angst%20plot





	

Castiel Novak was once a normal man. Yes, normal, or at least he appeared so. He worked a normal job in a normal office building. His family was standard, consisting of himself and his parents, with an aunt and uncle or two he didn’t know too well. He had no significant other to speak of, having never married nor having had too much interest in the business of Romance. He had fathered no children, illegitimately or otherwise. Doing so would’ve required sexual activity, something he did not feel necessary in his life. 

He was by no means an unattractive man, nor an unintelligent one. Neither of these traits, however, were enough to set him apart. Castiel wasn’t very social, preferring his own company or that of a few friends, but was polite enough to smile, nod, and greet most people he met on the street. As he’d been raised, he attended church on a weekly basis, but was nothing of the extreme practicer. Really it was a casual practice for him, though his beliefs were no less strong because of it. He drank little and had never touched any drug other than normal medications needed from time to time.

Castiel had one talent, however, that made him different from the average man you might meet on the street. He had the ability to  _ project _ \- to leave his real body behind and travel where he pleased. Of course, he could only do so for so long - projecting sapped his strength, and if enough energy were to be used it would render his ability unusable for some time while he recovered. On the benefiting side, all his senses were in full effect and his projected body corporeal, so he could do more or less what he wanted while projecting.

He’d never told a soul about his secret. Believing firmly it was a gift from God and must therefore be used sparingly, he rarely projected even as a child. In fact, as Castiel aged and became a man, he had more or less forgotten about his ability. That is, until he found there was a timer set on his life.

It had started slow, near silently as a matter of fact. A minor cold that lingered - coughing, mild fatigue, a general sense of being under the weather. Now Cas took good care of himself, and so expected this to clear up within a few days at most. When it didn’t, he acquired some basic medicines from the local pharmacy and began taking it. This helped some, and soon he was back to - if not quite full - good health.

Then it came back, this time a little more intense. The coughing grew worse, followed by a wheeze. His fatigue grew, making him sleepy and resulting in minor clumsiness and errors. He ran a fever, was mildly physically ill, and was proclaimed to simply have a bout of flu-like illness. Again, with the help of medication, he recovered.

When the illness came back the second time, it struck suddenly and without warning. He had been working, and had been standing and discussing something with a colleague when he’d suddenly collapsed. The next thing he could clearly remember was waking in a hospital bed with a grim-faced doctor standing over him. In a clipped tone that made no effort to sugarcoat but instead give him the plain facts, the doctor explained what was wrong with Cas.

A rare virus, one medical professionals had yet to fully analyze and cure, had somehow infected Castiel. It began like a mild illness, and progressed from there. Generally it took months, even years in a few of the handful of cases found, for the virus to become strong. Once it did... the timer started. Averaging cases, infected lived for around 3-5 years after that in slowly deteriorating health until their bodies collapsed, unable to fight off the sickness. Cas’ timer had started, and they weren’t sure how long he’d have.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Castiel’s world was falling apart around him at the discovery that he had mere years to live. Of course, his normally calm exterior stayed the same, more or less. All the while the doctor kept talking, describing the need for regular visits to the hospital to check the progression of the virus, medications he could take to slow to symptoms a bit and buy a little more time... 

The only ray of hope was a weak one. In some cases, just a few, the virus would suddenly reduce and the patient would recover to a reasonably good health. The doctor did note that this was extremely rare and Cas shouldn’t hold to the hope he’d be one of the lucky few. And he didn’t.

Once he’d recovered enough to return to normal life, things started to blur for Castiel. Day after day seemed much the same, the hospital visits becoming more frequent as the months wore on. By the second year of his illness, he would be kept in the hospital overnight, or even for a day or two... His health was failing as the virus took over. It was around this time, as his movement restricted, that Cas turned to projecting for an escape.

To Hell with using it sparingly, he wanted his life back. He wanted to be normal again, if only for a few hours. It was safe to say he went a little wild with this new freedom - Cas’ limitations receded when he projected. He didn’t see why it mattered anymore - he was a dying man, and while he would stay within the law he saw no reason he couldn’t have some fun. 

That was how he met Dean, as a matter of fact. 

As much as he tried to convince himself he shouldn’t try to make any new relationships - he was dying, after all, they wouldn’t last long - he couldn’t deny he’d fallen hard for the other man. Cas had first seen him in a bar, sitting by himself. He’d gone over to say hello, and soon found himself sitting next to the taller man, talking animatedly with him. 

Something just clicked between the two of them. Neither of them could’ve said why, they just found something comforting and almost familiar in the other’s presence. Cas enjoyed Dean’s blunt speech and straightforwardness, his rough edges and odd humor. Dean seemed to like Cas’ quiet nature and secretism, if for no reason than to try and tease the truth out of him. They must’ve been there for hours, talking about their lives, likes, most of the basic things people talked about. When they stood up to leave, they were friends. Simple as that. 

The next time they met, they greeted each other with the kind of enthusiasm you’d find in old friends. And by the time after next, something a little deeper seemed to form. Their friendship had formed fast, it was almost like they already knew each other but had forgotten for some reason. Soon they were meeting weekly, going places together. Pet names for each other quickly developed as something of a joke; Cas poked fun at Dean by calling him Princess and other girly names, Dean retaliated by dryly calling him Angel and on occasion Cassie. 

While their relationship blossomed and feelings piled up like fallen leaves, Cas’ psychical condition worsened. Using his strength on projecting took its toll on his already failing health. It wasn’t long before the hospital stays became regular, but Cas didn’t stop. His time with Dean was so much better than wasting away in a hospital bed, he’d rather die faster if it meant time with someone he cared for. 

He debated on occasion, lying on the crisp white sheets with his eyes closed, whether he should tell Dean the truth. He rejected the idea. Not only did he not want to reveal how bad off he was in terms of health, how could he even explain his ability? No, better to lie, better to keep things seemingly normal. How long that would last he didn’t know, but he was going to try his hardest to keep it that way. 

The visits continued, Cas fell harder and harder for Dean, and at the same time grew sicker and sicker until he stayed in the hospital with an uncertainty of whether or not he’d be leaving. Though he dreaded it, Cas knew he was running out of time. He was determined that at least once he would tell Dean how he truly felt, no matter what the reaction. And so, he planned, and finally it was the day. 

Like normal, he appeared in the park they had been meeting in the past few times. It was disconcertingly close to the hospital Cas now resided in, but it was unavoidable. Cas’ waning strength made closer locations necessary. Like normal, Dean was waiting, currently distracted by some birds squawking a few feet away from his feet. Like normal, Cas walked over, except stinging pains shot through him at random intervals. It seemed the fragility of his psychical body was beginning to affect his projected form... He masked the pain and smiled as he called out to Dean. 

“Hey, princess.”

Dean pivoted and smirked at the sight of Cas. “Well if it isn’t my little Angel.” The taller man stepped over, his smirk growing and then fading a bit as he got a good look at the other’s face. “You okay, Cas? You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, yes- I’m alright. Been a little under the weather, that’s all.” 

“Alright. Just don’t get all sick on me, okay?”

“Well there go all my plans,” Cas joked with a grin, and was relieved to see Dean laugh at that. Together they stepped off among the scattered trees, and when Cas silently took Dean’s hand he didn’t resist. They simply walked like that for a while, linked by their hands, and all the while a voice in Cas’ head was nagging him, over and over. ‘Tell him. Tell him. Tell him before it’s too late.’

The shorter brunette paused, slowly slipping his fingers away from Dean’s and pressing his hands into his pockets. He cast his gaze away, hesitating, unsure if he was truly ready to commit to the words aching to free themselves from his throat. 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice prodded at him. Cas sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. What did he have to lose? 

“There’s... something I’ve been wanting to tell you, Dean...” Again he hesitated. “I have... very strong feelings for you. Feelings further than friendship.” A mild heat warmed his cheeks, and he kept his eyes cast away out of embarrassment. There was silence from the man next to him, and worry nudged at Cas. Had he ruined months of friendship because of his confession?

“Cas...” He could’ve sworn his knees weakened at the sound of the other saying his name. After a few moments he chanced a look up at Dean and was mildly but pleasantly startled when Dean pulled him close, their lips meeting in a (truthfully awkward) kiss. He didn’t mind though. No, Cas’ one thought was that he could’ve died right then and he would’ve gone as a happy man. 

Dean’s hands cradled his hips, his own fingers caught on the taller man’s collar, the dizzying scented mix of cologne and sweat he’d always link to the man in front of him, the warm pressure; they all overrode his senses. Who cared if he was dying, if everything they had together was built on the lies of a sick man? What did it matter?

They had to stop at some point, air being necessary, but even after their lips had parted they stayed close, eyes locked. Cas thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. 

“I feel the same for you.” The words were simple but meant so much. Cas smiled, grinned really, feeling... alive. The kind of spirit he’d been lacking, that Dean was giving him. Of course, a moment as sweet as this couldn’t last long. The shorter man buckles as intense pain rocked through his ribcage, dropping him to his knees with a violent wheeze.

“Cas?!” Dean dropped down, concern etched all over his face. “Cas, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Panic made Cas’ mind slide all over the place. The pain was so intense, his psychical body would be sure to yank him back any minute now. Dean couldn’t see that, he couldn’t-

“I... I have to go...” He forced himself to his feet, moving away as fast as his doubled over body would permit, grimacing at every movement. 

“Whoa, Cas, wait, you’re not going anyw-” Dean’s voice broke off as Cas began half-running, and mid step he simply... vanished. Gone into thin air.

Cas jerked up with a gasp for air in his hospital bed. But the air wasn’t coming. His lungs weren’t working, nothing was going in and he choked for want of that precious element. His now flailing arms knocked the glass off the bedside table, the shattering alerting the nurse nearby. As Cas’ vision went black he saw the doctors working feverishly...

But let’s go back to Dean shall we? Left alone as the man he’d professed his love to simply vanishes into thin air. Understandably he was shocked, his mind scrambling to find an explanation. Maybe Cas had just... turned sharply, or Dean blinked at the wrong time. There were some people around, maybe they had seen where Cas had gone. It was a small hope but he clung to it. And so Dean set off in search of his maybe-boyfriend. 

“Excuse me ma’am-” he spoke to an older woman standing near the street that ran by the park. “I’m looking for someone, did you happen to see him? Brown hair, about ye high, wears a trench coat?” 

The woman clucked softly. “Now it should just so happen I think I know who you’re talking about, young man. I don’t think he’d be here though.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re looking for Castiel, right? That nice young man - God bless his soul - why, he’s in the hospital.”

That shocked Dean. Were they talking about the same person?

“...Where is... the hospital?”

“Oh, right over there down the street. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you-” Dean threw the words over his shoulder as he ran down the street. Just what was wrong with Cas?

 

“I came to see someone.”

“Name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Who is it you’re visiting?”

“Cas- Castiel Novak.”

Pause.

“I’m sorry sir, Mr. Novak is currently unable to see you.”

“Why?!”

“It doesn’t say. If you’d like to wait, I can tell you when he’s available.”

Dean huffed and strode away, pacing the waiting room. When he could do that no longer, he sat. And for the first time in Dean’s life, he prayed. He prayed desperately for Cas to be okay.

 

“Mr. Winchester?”

A startled jerk.

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak can see you now. He’s in room B47.”

“Thanks-” Dean hurried off.

The hallway was sleek and smelled of rubbing alcohol. Some doors were open on empty rooms, some had patients, others were closed. B47 was closed, and Dean took a deep breath before slowly turning the handle.

“Oh, Cas...”

The sight nearly broke his heart. The silky black hair he’d ruffled so often lay limp, the five o’clock shadow grown into a scruffy beard, the skin paled and eyes sunken with shadow. The slender figure had wasted, and the general aura the man gave off was one of illness. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes and looked up that Dean knew for sure it was Cas: though they were dull and pained, his eyes were still that beautiful blue. 

“Dean...? H-”

“Excuse me sir!” A hand gripped Dean’s sleeve, pulling him back. A nurse looked at him, her face creased in a frown. She opened her mouth to say something, but Cas’ voice cut over her first.

“You can...” The man wheezed quietly. “You can let him in. I... I need to talk to him.”

The nurse clearly didn’t want to, but stepped aside. “Very well Mr. Novak, I’ll be out here in case you need me.”

Dean stepped into the room fully, slowly sinking into the chair set beside the bed. As clear as it was Cas was in great pain, he managed a smile. 

“Nice to see you again so soon...” The smaller man’s voice was quietly raspy, his breathing uneven and seeming to scrape in his chest. 

“Cas... how in the Hell is this happening?”

“It’s... a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world, angel. Now explain.”

Cas sighed and did as told, pausing occasionally to cough or catch his breath. Between these interruptions he lay out everything: his ability, his illness, his lies... Dean swore he saw Cas crying silently as he explained it all.  _ He regretted everything _ .

Dean took Cas’ hand in both of his own, noticing the chill of the other’s skin. 

“I’m... so sorry I lied but I... I just wanted to be normal. To be normal with you-”

“I forgive you, Cas.”

The words lingered for a while.

I forgive you.

Cas looked up, a stray tear meandering down his cheek. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

And that was that. The two stayed like that for a long time, Cas’ skin slowly taking up the warmth from Dean’s hand. And the apology hovered between them, silent and overwhelmingly present. 

 

Cas seemed to get better in time. No longer having to strain to project, with Dean right beside him, his body was able to start fighting back against the virus. But Cas knew better...

He was tired. So, so tired. He was ready to give up fighting and go quietly into whatever came next.

He hoped it was Heaven.

 

It was a few nights later, with Dean once more by his side, that his time came. 

“Dean...” Cas’ voice had weakened to little more than a whisper, but Dean was instantly alert.

“What is it Cas?”

Slowly he sat up in the hospital bed. 

“Help me up.” He shifted to the edge of the bed, moving slow as though his body would shatter. “I want to see the stars.”

Dean rose, circled around, and put his arm around Cas’ waist. Moving carefully he led the sick man over to the window and parted the blinds. Moonlight fell on them, the twined figures outlined on the floor. Cas’ eyes seemed to glow in the silver light.

“So beautiful...” He breathed. He leaned back, resting heavily against Dean. “Remember... the time I convinced you to go stargazing with me...? You said it was stupid...” A soft laugh left the brunette. “But you loved it princess... you loved it.”

“I remember.” Dean smiled softly, pressing his lips to Cas’ forehead. “Moonlight always did compliment you, Cassie. Still does.”

“Heh...” Cas slipped a bit further. “You... always were a charmer...” His eyes closed. “...I’d like to lie back down now.” 

Dean nodded and lifted him up bridal-style, placing him gently onto the bed and even tucking the sheets up around his frail body. As he did, Cas’ hand caught his collar and stayed there. 

“Dean...” A soft pause. He’d opened his eyes, and the beautiful blue stayed focused on the man they’d looked at so often filled with love, just as they were now. “I love you.”

“I love you too Cas.” He took his hand, kissing the knuckles lightly. “You get some rest now, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” He let Cas’ hand slide back down to his side. He heard the gentle sigh and sat down, intending to wait until Cas was asleep. 

But the next inhale never came. Just... silence. 

Dean screamed for the doctors. Cas wouldn’t- he couldn’t die, not now. Not when he was getting better. The doctors tried, and they tried, but... nothing worked.

 

He didn’t cry for days. No, he was too shocked to cry. Surely it hadn’t happened, Cas would appear any time now. He was taking his time, sure, but he’d be back.

 

The funeral came. 

And Dean cried. The tears held back by shock came pouring out at the service, and even the comfort from his brother did nothing to help that pain. As the coffin was lowered, Dean looked away and through his tears... he could’ve sworn he saw Cas, healthy and whole. Glowing, radiant, beaming at him. Mouthing the words ‘I love you’ one last time. 

And then he was gone.

Castiel Novak was gone from the world. 

And nothing would fill the hole he’d left in Dean’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope the ending made you cry >:) Not actually. If you enjoyed, leave kudos and/or comment. Thanks and bye~!


End file.
